Poor Visibility
by So Beyond Crazy
Summary: "Need something, Miss?"


It was like a sauna. Steam filled the atmosphere, fogging up any glass surface available and leaving warm condensation everywhere. That, in conjunction with the smoke and faulty lighting, made for very poor visibility.

This frustrated the navigator, who was trying to scour through the patrons of the bar. A little more than tipsy, she was becoming increasingly impatient with her task, and she hadn't even found him yet!

Water or perspiration beaded along her skin, and her clothes were essentially slicked to her frame, but she didn't feel the least bit self-conscious, not when everyone around her was in the same exact state.

Regardless, she scowled at the heat. This dive of a bar was ridiculously hot; the only reason for such conditions was obviously to force customers to buy more drinks. It worked, of course (clever bastards!). There was hardly a soul here who wasn't entirely plastered. If only she had a lower resistance to alcohol; she should be shit-faced right now, that'd make this a lot less intimidating.

Still, her strut was full of confidence, even if her steps were more than a little uneven. Her eyes drifting across the room, relief flooded her when she finally spotted him beneath the haze, the yellow of his shirt visible even through the gloom. He was seated in the corner, where the lighting was even worse (had his shirt not been such a flamboyant, primary color, she probably wouldn't have noticed him). However, as she drew nearer, the relief was replaced by anxiety.

All the liquor in the world probably couldn't prepare her for this, she knew, but that didn't stop her from stealing a few shots off the nearest table. It couldn't hurt, right? She told herself she wasn't nervous; hell, she was far too drunk to even know what the word meant!

He was, as per usual, reclined in a relaxed manner. His long and lean form was sprawled out (that could be a problem) on a couch. Propped up by the armrest, he watched his nakama with the usual, lazy amusement, his smirk just barely taunting the edges of his mouth. A flask was held loosely in one hand, his hat resting on the table beside him.

She shifted her gaze, following his, and made out the figure of a certain, heat-delirious bear, who seemed to be in the middle of trying to teach his fellow crew members how to ballroom dance. Needless to say, it was not going over well.

Finding their activities of little interest, she returned her attention to their captain. She couldn't afford any distractions; she needed to be on her game tonight. Somehow, she just wasn't convinced he was as focused on his crew as he appeared. And that could be a big problem.

His eyes snapped onto her, narrowing slightly as if he had only now realized just how close his rival's navigator was.

_A very big, fucking problem._

She wasn't sure which team had arrived here first, but at this point she didn't think it mattered. She knew he _had_ to be drunk by now; it was more of a question of: was he drunk enough? Her life probably being on the line, judging from his expression, she decided now would be a good time for a quick, physical evaluation.

He was slicked with the same moisture as everyone else, and as to be expected he seemed entirely unfazed by it. He stared at her through the steam and smoke with partially lidded eyes, and to her relief she found that his gaze wasn't quite as fierce as she had feared it would be. With his pupils dilated and his eyes foggy, she could tell the alcohol in his system was working, and as she watched his eyes kept slipping down, as if it took effort to look her in the face. She was beginning to like her odds a little more. Even his customary, half assed smirk was off, it's placement lazy and haphazard.

Reflecting on it, she realized the last one put her on edge a bit.

"Need something, Miss?" His low drawl interrupted her analysis, his voice roughened by the liquor; a good sign. Still, he was watching her with that customary, amused grin, and his words made her realize that she had probably been silent a moment too long. Probably a good idea to put her plan into action.

"You're not wearing your hat."

She spoke softly, with just the faintest slur tainting her words; she wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. His eyebrows rose in response, but for the briefest moment he actually looked vaguely perplexed.

"Is that so?" He murmured, and she was almost certain she heard the laughter in his tone. That was also good; if she kept the situation light, she was a lot less likely to end up dead.

"Yep, I like it." She smiled, right before she plopped down facing his sprawled form, her body just brushing his. The move was probably too bold, but she needed the proximity.

His eyes narrowed at the motion, and she could actually see his body stiffen. She pretended to be too occupied with his hair to notice, feigning ignorance in the hopes that it would keep her alive. Still, a shiver ran up her spine as she felt his calculating stare on her face. Even when drunk and practically laying down, he was an intimidating man.

But if there was one thing she was used to, it was dealing with dangerous men. She could handle this, or, well, the ten or so shots she'd consumed in the last hour could. All she had to do was keep up this harmless act, so hopefully his "enemy pirate way too close" instincts wouldn't kick in.

This time there was a longer pause, in which she was certain he was measuring her up. After several long moments he let out a low chuckle, easing back into the couch, his form relaxing as if he'd deemed her to not be a threat- at present.

"Yeah?" Alright, so he wasn't a particularly talkative drunk (pity, they were easy to distract), but at least he wasn't on high alert, and he wasn't ordering her away either. And, as far as she could tell, he was not currently planning the best method to dissect her.

"Yeah," she repeated, eyelids lowering for effect, "you have nice hair." She had meant to just touch his hair, really, just give it a friendly tussle. Instead, she lifted her hand, slowly and in plain view, and brushed it through his hair, fingers slipping through the slightly dampened tresses, her nails just barely grazing the skin of his scalp.

_Shit!_

She let the hand rest there briefly, before slowly pulling it back, pretending to not notice the instantaneous change in his aura. So much for keeping the situation "light". She mentally cursed herself out for that one; he had been at ease, a _perfect_ target, and then she had to blow it.

_Way to go and turn him on._

She internally flinched, wishing she'd phrased that in a different way, even if it was in her head. She didn't have long to dwell on it though, seeing as she just realized that his hand was on her waist, and his thumb was running up and down her hipbone. Revelation of the day: Trafalgar Law, like many men, was apparently a horny drunk.

Well, this definitely wasn't the way she'd planned it to go. Honestly, she was just about floored by how forward his response was; subtly was clearly not on the menu tonight.

Briefly she considered the option of just turning and running away, giving up before things got worse. But then she thought back to her teammates, and her task, and her resolve hardened. She could do this, the liquor told her; she could totally work this situation to her advantage.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, and she was shocked to look down and find that her hand was already under his shirt, nails slowly tracing across his abdomen. She was suddenly thankful for the dense air, chances were no one else could really see a thing, and anyone who did would either forget by morning or think it was an alcohol induced mirage. Also, no one would notice her blush.

Which was definitely for the best, since now she found herself straddling him. She wasn't entirely sure how it happened and, if his widened eyes were anything to go by, he wasn't either.

But he wasn't complaining, even as she took his flask he didn't say a thing, though he did raise a brow. She took a long drink, trying not to grimace at the foul taste before handing it back to him. His eyes watching her curiously, he took a swig as her hand slid to his hip, hoping he wasn't paying too close attention. No luck, his eyes lowered to track the movement.

Desperate measures time.

Her other hand latched into his hair, tugging him forward a she leaned in. She had a split second to take in the shock on his face before she pressed her lips to his. Her eyes closed.

God, she _really_ hoped he was drunk enough for this.

At first the Heart Pirates' captain offered no response, his entire body rigid, as if he was trying to discern if this was a very fucked up assassination attempt. She kept her eyes tightly shut, her mouth still on his, as she anxiously waited for his move.

She heard the sound of a bottle dropping, and a second later his hand was splayed out across her lower back, his tongue running across her lips as he angled his head. The drunken response was slow, leisurely even, as he sank back into the couch.

Well, that didn't take too much persuasion. He was more intoxicated than she could have ever wished for. That or he was just a horny bastard. Knowing pirates- it was probably both. Now, back to the task at hand…

It wasn't until his hand fisted into her hair that she noticed she was really in trouble- he was starting to take control. He tugged her head back, her mouth breaking from his as she was allowed oxygen. He lowered his face to her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as he ran his tongue along her pulse, right before nipping the flesh. Her body tensed as she gasped in response. Exploiting the opportunity, he seized her mouth again, his tongue snaking past her teeth.

She tried to keep her head clear, remembering that this wasn't why she was here. This was escalating way too fast now, and she needed to duck out before it was too late. Remembering that this wasn't a man she could very easily force to stop, she decided to test the waters. Her first movement was to shift her body away. His response: pull her closer.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, even if he couldn't see. Were drunk guys just naturally this obnoxious, or did they all just pretend to be so damn oblivious? Either way, this situation was growing increasingly hopeless. Considering how drunk he was, she thought of a new idea. It was a long-shot, but it would have to do for now.

So she slowed her tongue, her mouth all but stilling. It took a minute, but eventually he responded to the change as his arms wrapped loosely around her. His movements became more languid, less demanding, and more sensual; all in all more in line with his laid-back persona. She temporarily forgot she was trying to escape (she blamed the alcohol), but he reminded her a few minutes later: when he bit her lip, making her wince.

_Sadistic bastard._

Still, she had a feeling her plan was working. He was slowing down, and if she kept everything mellow enough maybe she could get him to fall asleep. But then he suddenly shifted upward into a sitting position, and as he brought her with him all her hopes of escaping vanished- and a thousand warning bells went off inside her head. In that brief moment, pressed up tight against his lithe form, she had noticed it.

His body, despite the casual posture, was way too tense. The movement he had just made was too refined in comparison to his other drunken actions, the execution far too flawless. It was not the movement of a typical drunken man; it was the movement of a predator.

In that instant, she realized just how dangerous her current situation was. She was straddling the captain of a rival crew. She was actually making out with a man _who was renowned for his cruelty_. And if his sudden actions were anything to go by, he wasn't quite as drunk as he had first appeared.

Any courage the liquor had gained her dissipated at that moment, as the heavy realization hit her: he was playing her as she tried to play him, tolerantly leading her on in her little game.

But if she hazarded a guess, his patience was wearing thin. He had regained his earlier enthusiasm, doubled it even, and his movements were so much steadier than before- signaling he'd finally grown tired of the act. He was ready to strike, and it wasn't until his hand slid from her thigh, his fingers slipping beneath her skirt, that she gained the courage to end this.

She jerked her head back, breaking from the heated make-out session and gasping for air. He stilled beneath her, his hands returning slowly to her hips. She glanced down, and instantly wished she hadn't.

If she had ever wondered what it would be like to have the entirety of his focus on her, she had found her answer. The intensity in his darkened eyes was nothing short of terrifying. He looked about ready to ravish her, but that wasn't what scared her the most, even as she noticed that there was definitely no drunken haze in his eyes now. No, what frightened her even more was the message hidden in those glinting, feral eyes: _I win._

For the first time, she _really_ became aware of how her actions could have serious repercussions. Deciding she needed to put some distance between them, now, she tore her eyes away and pulled back, standing up to leave.

Or, well, that was the plan.

His hands grabbed her hips, holding her in place before she could do anything, his fingers bruising the skin. She stiffened, her eyes closing as panic swept her and she tried to struggle free. When his grip only continued to tighten, however, she realized he wanted her to look at him. Reluctant, but out of good options, she did so.

His gaze was harder to discern now, but before she could even try to work through it he pressed his hips upwards, letting her _clearly_ feel his erection. She froze, fear holding her in place as he ground into her, watching her with a sinister intensity, a wicked smirk etched across his face. The warning was held solely within his eyes, but she didn't miss it: he was not a man to be messed with.

The aroused captain shifted then, releasing her without further hesitation. She scrambled back, staggering in her stilettos as she retreated.

By then he had sat up, and now he was running a hand through his hair. Looking completely unfazed, he flashed her that infuriating smirk and chuckled.

"You should probably head back, Miss Nami."

It was a blatant threat, and even she had to gape at the audacity. She wanted to say something, offer some retort, but his eyes hadn't lost their lust or intensity, and she found herself unable to look in them any longer. Turning, she quickly made it back to her original table, not daring to turn around again.

Sitting back down with her crew, she noted dryly that they were in an even more drunken state than when she'd left- probably too drunk to even remember the idiot dare they gave her. One that she had successfully enacted; Law's wallet was securely hidden in her bra.

But she'd deal with exploring its contents tomorrow. Tonight she was going to celebrate. A victorious grin tugging at her lips, she stole a bottle from the table and brought it to her lips.

She didn't look his way again, but she didn't really need to; for the rest of that night, she could practically feel those eyes on her.

* * *

><p><strong>9.18.12 Update<strong>

**AN:** Oh wow. I can't believe how much attention this story has gotten! It makes me so glad I accepted that request. despite knowing very little about One Piece at the time (seriously, I had to actually look up who Trafalgar Law was...). ^_^; But then, I'm very rarely able to resist a juicy crack-pairing. :3

Anyway, why I'm here... I've come to the decision...not to do a sequel.

Honestly, I much prefer you guys coming up with your own theories, seriously. And if I make a sequel, then some people will be wrong, and I much prefer you all getting the end you want (in your mind).

And really, it's just not in my nature to close a story. XD

**8.22.11**

**All comments and criticism adored!**

**AN**: My first ever attempt at a One Piece story! :D I'm not too familiar with the series, I seriously need to catch up, but I got a request to do this crack-pairing, and I just couldn't resist (especially when I saw how little love this couple has)! I think I've revised this story five times since I posted it. XD

**And again: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! If I didn't want your opinion, I wouldn't have posted it for you to see!**

P.S. Have you noticed that you end up making out with people for the weirdest(dumbest) reasons when drunk? No? Just me then...


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